18 Carat Run of Bad Luck
by raikofu
Summary: Just what I pictured happened to my Courier before getting shot in the face.


I'm a Courier.

Courier number six to be exact. Delivering quite the package to the one and only New Vegas strip. A seemingly simple chip, like the kind you gambled away in casinos. Only this one was special, it was made of pure platinum.

You'd figure they'd get a guarded patrol to get this stupidly expensive thing up to the Strip instead of one courier, but my employer said that was just begging for some fiends to attack. So on a twist of fate, I got pulled on this job at the last minute. I was hoping to get some vacation time with the pay from the last job, but the original Mr. Six decided to back out the day before with barely any explanation. How kind of him.

And so here I am, three finks apparently wanted this package even without the goddamn guards to give it away. One was a not-bad looking man in a checkered suit, his dark hair was slicked back and a bent cigarette was hanging loosely from his lips. Strange that a man like him would be all the way out here, messing around with the company he had with him. The other two men standing with him hailed from the Great Khans, it would take some kind of idiot to not realize that. The shovels they carried in their hands gave off some bad vibes.

I should have ran far away when they first approached me. They asked for some help, some directions to the nearest water source, and being the stupidly sympathetic wasterlander I am, I paused to help. Although after a minute, it was screaming inside my mind to get away from these guys and fast, and they knew.

So the man in the suit got right to the point before I could jet out of there.

"Listen baby," The man paused to take a long drag on his cigarette before continuing, "You give us that package you're carryin' there and you can save us both a lot of trouble, you dig?"

"I give you this package and I'll be in a world of trouble. I need these caps to eat and survive, mister. You don't seem like you'd know anything about scraping by for caps to live," I scoffed, taking a few steps back. Did he just get lucky and pick the winning ticket, or did he know what I was carrying with me?

"Caps are what you need, then you'll get it. 1,000 caps upfront for that package you're carrying, probably 3x what you're getting from your employer," He took one last drag on the bent cigarette before dropping it on the ground and putting it out with his shoe, "Caps ain't a problem if that's what you're gettin' at."

I shook my head, a firm 'no', "Listen pretty boy, I can't do that! I let you take this package, I never get a job as well paying as a Courier again. Simple as that, and now I've spent too much time talking to you boys."

I began to walk away quickly. I was an idiot to even hope that this was going to end cleanly just like that. Khans took what they wanted, when they wanted, and they weren't known for their diplomacy. Fancy-pants over there wanted the goddamn chip in the package, likely he was paying those Khans to do the wetwork so he wouldn't have to dirty his own hands - or that nice suit. Bringing the sack with the package closer to me, I tried to sneakily reach my hand inside, finding an old 10mm pistol inside. It wasn't anything special, but it got the job done.

"Didn't want things to turn out like this, but if you won't fly with what I'm offering you then we'll just have to do things the messy way, huh baby?" The man in the suit shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets and shaking his head, "Get her, boys. I ain't payin' you to stand there and look intimidating."

I can't believe it took me that long before I broke out into a desperate sprint. Godammit was the only word repeating itself over and over in my mind. My damn heart felt like it was going to burst out of my fucking chest. One fiend high off their ass on chems was enough to deal with, how the hell was I going to deal with two Khans and some rich, smug asshole? With my hand shaking, I took the pistol out of the bag and gripped on it until my knuckles were white.

I spun around, still backpeddling as I quickly shot the gun, hoping it made contact with either of the two chasing after me. No dice, sure seemed like Lady Luck picked quite a day to turn her back on me. I turned around again, but not in time to notice the small pothole in the broken down road we were running on. Before I could straighten myself out, I collided with the concrete. Hard. There wasn't anytime to pay attention to the pain, not if I wanted any chance in keeping my life today.

I raised the gun up quickly once more, as one of the Khans ran closer, raising the shovel above his head to make it come down on my own. I had the perfect shot, aligned right with that son of a bitch's head.

Everything slowed down, my heart seemed to stop.

I pulled the trigger.

And the fucking gun jammed on me. The Khan brought the shovel down on my head, connecting perfectly. A loud thud rang out. There was no pain, I didn't feel a thing. My vision blurred for a split second, then everything faded to black.


End file.
